Striptease
by FrenchieLeigh
Summary: He didn't approve of her profession on a personal level, but as their relationship became more personal, he delighted in the fact that she was, in fact, a professional. AU: Saitou/Tokio
1. Bustiers & Breakfast

**Author's Note: **This is the result of being alone for hours on end, cutting and assembling wedding invitations with _Call Me, Maybe _on repeat. I'm not ashamed.

It will probably be... 2 or 3 chapters?

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**Chapter One**

_In which our hero and heroine meet under less than desirable circumstances_

"I really don't feel comfortable here, Harada-san."

Okita Soushi wrung his hands taking a seat at the bar while his friend Harada Sanosuke accepted a shot from the bartender and threw it back with ease.

"Aw come on, man. This is a five star establishment!"

"I don't doubt that it is," he replied, before nodding to the bartender, "a water, please."

It was true. The gem of Kyoto's red light district, this club was, in fact, quite a sight to behold. Crystal chandeliers hung from the tiled ceilings, and shimmering black staircases spiraled up, spilling out onto each of the four floors. There were leather chairs scattered around the level they had settled in, two or three to a small table, lit by a singular modern lamp. Chic uplighting lined the walls in various shades of blues and beautiful cocktail waitresses pranced around in sparkling costumes, flashing smiles at any gentleman to make eye contact.

In the center, a stage jutted out from the black velvet of a curtain sporting the object of every man's anticipation: a freshly polished metallic pole.

"All I'm saying, " Okita went on, "is that I don't think Shousha would be very happy if she found out I was here."

Harada scoffed, putting down another shot, "Please. It's your bachelor party. The little miss will understand. She's cool like that."

"She'll cry," Okita said flatly.

"Whadda you think, Saitou?" Harada asked, leaning forward to address the man by Okita's side who was nursing a cigarette with a rather sour look on his face.

"I agree with Okita," the angular man replied, narrowing his golden eyes at the scene before him, "this is no place for a married man. Not one of a respectable character."

Harada sighed, running his hands through the black spikes that made up the hair that hung over his forehead, "He's not married yet, you know. This is his last weekend to enjoy himself. By next Saturday, he'll be committed for life."

"I was committed the moment I proposed," Okita mumbled into his water. He had always been the type of man to walk the straight and narrow. That wasn't going to change for one night simply because popular culture deemed it should.

Just then a woman came up behind Harada, using her tiny manicured fingers to cover his eyes. Her frame was small, much smaller than any of the other girls in the establishment, though the seven or so inches that her shoes gave her created an illusion of height.

"Guess who~?" she cooed, giving her bottom a small wiggle as two patrons passed by.

Harada grinned. "Ophelia!" he cried, taking hold of her wrists and spinning his chair to face her.

She smiled back at him, a flash of hot pink lipstick and perfect teeth. Tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, she set her mouth in a pout and used her enormous heels to press the lever on the bottom of the bar stool, lowering him to her level.

"How long have you been here without saying hello?" she asked, pulling herself up onto his lap.

Saitou let out a disgusted grunt, extinguishing his cigarette and Okita pulled out his cellphone. He really _should_ tell his fiancee what was going on.

"About fifteen minutes," Harada told her, biting down on his lip as she gripped his broad shoulders and began teasing him slowly with the beginnings of a lap dance.

"I have something for you," he tried, reaching into the breast pocket of his flashy embroidered dress shirt, "Do you recognize this man?" he asked, snapping open a crisp bill.

Ophelia let out a small moan of sensual disappointment. "Oh Sanosuke, you know how I hate going to the bank."

"Maybe so," he murmured, sliding the bill into one of the cups of her diamond encrusted bustier, "but I think Mr. Franklin wants to go with you."

Keeping with her steadily lazy rhythm, she took hold of his collar, pulling him close, and brushed her lips over his forehead and down his nose, just a whisper's length from his skin, but never touching. She could feel him shiver beneath her, his hands aching to touch her, but knowing better.

"Mr. Franklin gets awfully lonely," she said lowly, her breath teasing his own.

Without hesitating, Harada placed more money into her lingerie, smiling as she pulled away. He knew she hated foreign currency, but for all her teasing, she deserved a little bit of hassle, so he went out of his way to acquire it.

"Now he has friends," he said triumphantly, frowning slightly when she removed herself from him, but letting out a small hiss as her hand lingered over his erection.

"Who are _your_ friends, Sanosuke?" she asked, all the hunger of a lioness in her eyes as she gave Okita and Saitou a once over.

Harada cleared his throat. "Ophelia, this is Okita Soushi. We're out celebrating for him, you know."

"Really?" she asked, taking Okita's boyish face in her hands, "I don't know about this, Sanosuke. The poor dear doesn't look a day over sixteen."

"I'm twenty-three, miss," Okita replied uncomfortably.

"Well now," she said huskily, "that does make a difference."

Lowering his chair as well, she placed one hand on his chest, encouraging him to remain seated, despite his obvious efforts to escape.

"This one's on the house," she told him with a wink. When she slid up onto his legs, however, he let out a strangled yelp, and with two hands on her upper arms, steered her off the stool and put a good five feet between the two of them.

"I don-I don't n-need your ser-services, miss," he sputtered, taking a few calming breaths, but still holding out his open palm lest she try to advance on him again, "I'm getting married."

The hunger in her eyes disappeared then and she let out a smile that left him with no hint of flirtation.

"Loyalty to one woman," she said with wonder, "I like that."

He gave her a forced smile, and her attention snapped back to Harada.

"Maybe you should take some clues from your friend here," she said, crossing her arms.

He shrugged his shoulders and turned up his palms. "_What_," he whined, "It was arranged. Until I set a date, I'm not _really_ engaged."

Ophelia's glare could have frozen Hell.

"Besides," he continued, "you're the one working your magic all up on my junk."

"It's my _job_, Sano," she quipped, "you're the pig who keeps requesting private sessions."

Not waiting for his retort, she leaned in, gave Okita a light kiss on the cheek, and strode away in search of other clients.

"Do you _know_ her?" Saitou asked, lighting up another cigarette, "she seemed to know you."

"Yeah," Harada replied. "we've been friends for a while."

"Good friends?" Okita questioned.

Their spikey haired friend held up another Benjamin with a smirk. "Sometimes."

About an hour later, Saitou was alone at the bar. Harada had gone off to watch the dancers, Okita was entertaining himself in the billiards room, and their other friends had dispersed into various areas of the club.

_He_ had wanted to take Okita to the shooting range. The man was a legend with a handgun. A night of guns, poker, and intelligent conversation would have been a much better night than being stuck here in a strip joint.

"Can I have a glass of red?"

The familiar female voice pulled Saitou from his brooding and when he looked to his left, his eyes fell on the blonde entertainer from earlier.

"Drinkin' on the job, Ophelia?" the bartender joked, handing her a glass of the deep red liquid.

"Men like a classy lady," she replied, perching herself on the stool next to Saitou, "and I've got a few minutes to spare.

Though he didn't know why, Saitou found himself staring at her. He didn't have any interest in her, preferring intelligence over beauty, but even he couldn't deny her striking appearance. Her eyes were bright and alert; gray like the sea on a stormy day, and her mouth was set in just enough of a pout to be desirable, kissable, and irresistible. She probably made a fortune.

Her breasts, he noticed, were real, and not overly huge, a refreshing change from all of the silicon balloons parading around. They were, he noticed, sneaking a glance at his palm, the perfect size for him. More than a handful was a waste, after all.

When he looked back at her, he caught her staring at him. She must not have expected him to have noticed, correctly assuming his disinterest, but when his eyes locked with hers, a small blush appeared through her heavy makeup, and she fumbled a bit with her words, recovering with perfect grace.

Slipping from her seat, she slid her wine into his hand and, surprised at her overpowering presence, Saitou found himself accepting it.

"What's your story?" she purred, running a finger over his jawline, "you're here with Sanosuke too, aren't you?"

Saitou slapped her hand away. "Against my will."

"You can leave at any time," she noted, "your groom friend is busying himself with manly things like billiards and darts."

He cast his glance downward, looking at her from the corner of his eye, but not speaking.

"Though you should stick around," she told him with a smile, motioning towards the stage where a dancer was performing acrobatics that no human being should physically be able to do. "I'm up next."

Without another word, she left, leaving Saitou with a glass of red wine, a lipstick print kissing the rim.

xxxx

It was nearing five a.m. when Takagi Tokio entered the small corner diner. Giant porfolio slung over her shoulder, she slid into a booth and a waitress immediately served her a coffee. She accepted it with a smile, pulling her black hair back over her shoulders and fashioning it into a loose braid.

Taking out her latest project, she arranged everything, as she needed, pulled out an assortment of coloured pencils, donned a pair of readers, and set herself to work.

On the other side of the diner, Saitou Hajime was engrossed in paperwork. He hated paperwork. It was inevitable, and as it just so happened, every promotion he earned came with _more_ paperwork. What was the point of advancing in the police force if the higher he climbed, the less enforcing he actually got to do?

"More coffee Saitou-san?"

He grunted in response and timidly, the waitress obliged before heading back into the kitchen. It had been a week and a half since Okita's 'bachelor party', and now that the idiot was married, he was sailing the seven seas on his honeymoon with his new bride and Saitou was stuck doing _his_ paperwork as well. He could almost _feel_ Okita's cheery grin soaking into his flesh.

"Thanks so much, Saitou-san!" his vision chirped, waving at him from a sunny beach in a horrifyingly husband-like hawaiian shirt, one arm wrapped around the petite bikini clad form of his Tokyo heiress.

Damn him.

Sighing and rubbing his forehead, he looked up scanning the diner for no other reason than to focus his eyes on something other than his work. There weren't many people here; the early breakfast rush hadn't yet begun, but when a young woman across the room looked up in thought, he nearly choked on his coffee.

"Are you alright, sir?"

His waitress was back. Why was she back? Waitstaff were the worst type of staff, he decided. They were never around when you needed them, but when you didn't need them, they never seemed to go away.

"Fine," he clipped.

With a trained smile, she gave him a nod and left again, refilling the napkin dispensers at the counter.

"Masa."

"Masa."

"_Masa!"_

When the waitress finally turned around (due to a crumpled up straw wrapper bouncing off the side of her face), Tokio sent her a look of frustration, and with a jerky hand movement, motioned her over.

"Seriously girl," Tokio huffed, "are you going deaf?"

Sugawara Masa rolled her eyes. "Well maybe if you weren't trying to get my attention like a twelve year old I would have actually responded."

"Who is that?" she asked, nodding over to Saitou.

Masa looked back too, but Tokio kicked her under the table.

"Who?" she asked.

Tokio let out an impatient snort. "The cop with the stick up his ass."

"That's Saitou Hajime," Masa replied, clearly not sharing Tokio's judgement, "he and a few others just moved here from Tokyo about a month ago. They're good friends with-" she paused, blushing and then rolling her eyes hopelessly, "they're good friends with Sanosuke."

"That idiot," Tokio muttered. "Has he set a date yet?"

Masa's forced, yet utterly hopeless grin said it all. Though she had been arranged to marry Harada Sanosuke since birth, she had fallen head over heels in love with him in high school while they both poured their hearts into the archery club. If he felt the same way, he had one hell of a way of showing it.

Tokio sighed roughly. "Alright, well listen. I'm going to pick up Officer Needs-a-good-lay over there's tab."

Masa's eyes widened and she crouched down, holding onto the table so as not to fall over. "What? You don't even know him."

Tokio shrugged. "He looks like he'll be fun to play with."

"Don't make me."

"Making you," she replied, adjusting her glasses and picking up another pencil, "go on."

"You are so lucky you're my best friend, you mean thing," Masa hissed, taking in Tokio's satisfied smile.

When Masa arrived at Saitou's table for what seemed like the hundredth time for both of them, she was nearly shaking. He never was very nice to her.

"Just leave the bill," he sad sharply, not looking at her.

"It has been taken care of," she said softly, her voice cracking slightly.

The pen in Saitou's hand paused. "Excuse me?"

"Th-the bill has already been paid," she repeated with more confidence, and then, just to pit revenge against her friend, pointed at Tokio, "that woman over there has seen to it."

Saitou studied the woman across the restaurant, barely acknowledging his waitress. "Has she now?"

Abandoning his paperwork, he rose and strode across the room, stopping at Tokio's table.

"Explain yourself."

"You're welcome," she said, not looking at him. Even though she didn't give him the pleasure of eye contact, he knew exactly who she was. He had recognized her eyes immediately, and even now, looking at her bent profile, her lips, though sporting no more than a simple lip balm, betrayed her identity.

"_Ophelia._"

Tokio raised her head then, a cheeky smile plastered across her face. "So you recognized me. You have good eyes."

Ignoring the subject, Saitou pulled some money from his wallet. "Don't bother trying so hard. Desperate strippers aren't my type."

"And what makes you think I have any interest in you?" she challenged.

Saitou's gaze remained calm and even. "Then you make a habit of paying for people's food?"

"Yes," she replied resolutely, "I do enjoy a good deed every now and then."

Unsure of how to proceed, he glanced down at the mess of drafts and swatches on her table.

"What is this?" he asked, "arts and crafts?"

With a disgusted breath, she swatted his hand from her arrangement. "_This_," she said forcefully, "will be my career soon. It's called interior design, something a stiff and boring man such as yourself probably knows little of."

He let out an amused snort. "I doubt the general population would take kindly to caged balconies and poles."

"You never know," she said, surprising him at how she hadn't jumped to defend herself, "mirrored ceilings are becoming quite popular."

"That's disgusting."

Tokio shrugged. "To each their own, I guess."

Saitou stood by the table for several more moments in silence, money still hanging limply in his hands. She had returned to her work, sketching, measuring and coloring, making no attempt to reach for the currency.

"My name isn't Ophelia," she said after a while.

"I don't care," he scoffed, tossing the money onto the table. "I'm leaving."

"Wait."

Saitou paused, mid step. Why he paused, he'd never know, but somewhere down the line, he would be glad he did.

She dug through her purse and something inside of Saitou, some might call it a heart, skipped a beat. There was something far more beautiful about her here, like this. The soft glow of dawn was lighting the edges of her hair, that mess of curls escaping the braid she had attempted to tame them with. She was much prettier as a brunette, he noted. There was no makeup on her face and she was clumsier than the sex kitten that she had played at the club.

When she rightened and gave him an exhausted smile, he dismissed all of these thoughts. She was a _stripper_. High end or not, she was an excuse for men to gather around and lose themselves in arousal, spending money most of them didn't have, and encouraging the idea that lust was a perfectly acceptable and even a respectable vice.

"Here," she said, handing him a small square of paper, "my work schedule."

With a glare, he let out a low growl, "Just what sort of man do you take me for?"

Gathering up her things, she placed them back in her portfolio and stood, hands on her hips. "I'm not asking you to come watch me dance," she told him, "but I do come here after work every night."

Saitou crumpled up the paper in his fist, just to prove how much he didn't desire her company.

Sliding from the booth, she stood before him and just as before, ran a teasing finger along his jaw.

"Don't lose that," she purred, giving him a professionally wicked smile, and turning to leave the diner.

He watched her go, seething at the fact that his skin was tingling. With her head raised high, she turned to give him one last glance. It would have been a sneaky move that kept him rooted in his reluctant desire, but her depth perception was slightly skewed from exhaustion and as she groped for the handle of the door, the side of her face collided with the glass, destroying any sensuality of her exit.

Though he made no movement that even acknowledged that he had seen her embarrassing slip-up, once she was completely out of his sight, his lips turned up in amusement.

"Masa. Who is that girl?"

Masa peeked out from behind the coffee machine. "That's Takagi Tokio, Saitou-san. She's my best friend."

So that was how Harada knew her. It also explained her show of irritation with him. Women were always quick to defend their own, the exasperating wretches that they were.

He unfolded the paper she had given him.

It couldn't hurt, could it?

xxxx

**Author's Note**: I thought it would be fun to make Masa Tokio's bestie instead of Shousha this time around. Mostly because I'm not allowing Shousha into this fic. She always seems to bring on the sad times


	2. Tuition & Temptation

**Author's Note: **Once upon a time I told you this would be a short fic. I lied. Right after posting that, a full blown fic, complete with a side fic (that I already posted, wtcrap?). That's a good thing though, right? :D

Most of you know that I like to do a lot of research as I write. (I mean in _Fine Lines_ I spent an hour scouring the internet for mourning wear of widows the Edo period. Really, not that important, but I _had to know._ Pfft.) Well I'm going to tell you something. The Japanese Police system has my head spinning. I'm sitting here reading about it and I'm just like, "what the..." (Even after reading & watching all variations of Death Note. You'd think _some_ of it would stick after _that.) _I get it, sort of, so... for anyone more familiar, forgive me as I botch it up, give it up, and just take most of my inspiration from _Dexter. _(speaking of which, anyone flipping out waiting for season 7? eeeeeee!)

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**Chapter Two**

_In which our hero learns all about our heroine and doesn't quite know what to think_

Saitou sat at his desk, clicking through the police database. _Criminal database_. Nothing. _Juvenile delinquency. _Nothing. _Court appearances. _Nothing. _Traffic violations_.

Nothing.

Grey eyes and a ghost of a smile stared back at him from the computer screen, the identification card of Takagi Tokio. Her driver's license. That, along with her address, home phone number, weight, height, sex, hair color, eye color and date of birth was information readily available to him, but he could not, in any of the public records, find anything further.

"You won't find anything on her."

Immediately closing out of his search, Saitou looked up at Harada, leaning over to read the screen, palms set firmly on Saitou's desk.

"Don't you have work to do?" he asked, discreetly hiding Tokio's work schedule under his keyboard.

"Nope," replied the rooster haired assistant inspector, with a grin and a thumbs up, "I am _all caught up_."

"Well I do," Saitou clipped, pulling forth a manilla envelope of what he assumed to be more of Okita's work. The truth was, he was all caught up on his work as well, and until they found leads on any of their open cases, he didn't have much to keep himself busy with.

"Stalking Tokio hardly classifies as work," Harada pointed out.

Saitou didn't respond, clicking open his pen and setting to work reviewing the information on the pages before him.

"But," Harada went on, his tone teasingly thoughtful, "she's a tough nut to crack, so maybe you'd be good for her. She's a good kid. Pretty impressive actress too, you might have noticed."

"I hardly see any reason to consort with the likes of her."

With a shrug, Harada ruffled his own hair. "Well whatever, man. Your loss."

Ignoring this, Saitou went on with his work.

xxxx

At her usual seat in the booth just by the door, Tokio sipped on her coffee, legs crossed, and reading glasses perched on top of her ebon curls, tamed tonight by a loose bun at the nape of her neck.

"So he hadn't been in all week?"

Masa shook her head, lifting herself up to sit on the counter, resting her sneakered feet on a stool. "No. Maybe he's busy or something. He was in pretty regularly before," she paused, giving her friend a reprimanding glance, "_you_ talked to him."

Tokio rapped her fingernails against her mug in thought, then winced slightly, "Mom and dad aren't mad at me, are they?"

Masa let out a laugh. "Of course not. Tokio can do no wrong in their eyes."

Tokio smiled at this. Masa's parents owned the diner, along with several others in the city. They loved Tokio as a daughter, despite her career decision, and it was because of this relationship that she had never paid for coffee (or the food) a day in her life.

"Hey Tokio!"

Harada gave her a thumbs up as she flashed him a peace sign. "Hey Sano, what's up?"

He didn't answer her right away, making his way over to Masa and planting a kiss on her cheek. "Hey baby," he crooned, causing her to blush furiously as she always did when he greeted her this way, and bite down hard on her lip to prevent a victorious smile from creeping through. This wasn't a victory, this was routine, but it was wonderful all the same.

Tokio rolled her eyes at the display, placing her coffee back down on the table and leaning forward as Harada sat down on the stool next to the one Masa's feet were occupying.

"How was your day, ladies?" He asked, putting his feet up on the other side of Tokio's booth.

"Fine," Masa replied, setting aside the tray she had been holding to play with the spikes of his hair. "Tokio's been pining something awful though."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, giving Tokio a suggestive grin, "finally gonna get a boyfriend?"

"I have not been _pining_," she huffed, bringing her glasses down to her nose and turning to her sketches, "I've just been curious."

Masa was one to talk, Tokio thought bitterly. The young waitress ate, slept, and breathed Harada Sanosuke. She'd probably try to drink him and self medicate with his very existence as well if it weren't for Tokio slapping her around every now and then. For all Masa's attempts to win his affections, however, he still treated her like some childhood pal.

Insensitive prick.

"So who is this lucky guy?" Harada wondered laying his head across his fiancee's lap so she could play with the front of his hair. Evenly distributed affection was very important.

"Oh _please_," Tokio mumbled, "he's just some guy who I bought coffee for. It's no big deal."

"She gave him her work schedule," Masa threw in.

"Whhaaaaaaat?"

Tokio shrugged. "It's really not a big deal."

"This is a _huge_ deal," he protested, "you're inviting someone _into your life_. You don't do that. What happened to your 'no boyfriend' policy?"

"He is _not_ my boyfriend," she replied testily, "and he isn't going to be. He's just some guy."

Knowing better than to continue to provoke her, he shrugged, lifting his legs up as a customer made their way past them. "Saitou's gonna be pretty jealous."

Tokio froze. "What?"

"Saitou," he repeated. "He was with us at Okita's party. Caught him lookin' up your file yesterday. Never thought he was the type."

He could see her trying to keep her expression calm, searching for a quick answer to the question she knew was about to come up. To this, he grinned.

"Though yanno, I'd really like to know how he found out who you are."

Gritting her teeth, Tokio tried to ignore him. It wasn't important, but he wasn't the type of guy to let things go so easily. Even if she did tell him the truth, Harada would twist it around into some perverse reason for her to get laid, hook up, and simply slut around. He meant well, she supposed, but despite what he clearly thought, there was a lot more to life, and a lot more to men and their dealings with women, than sex.

Which was hilarious, she thought, considering she spent most of her time convincing men that the _only_ thing in life that held any importance at all, was sex.

"It was coffee," she finally settled on, hoping to put a swift end to the conversation.

The door to the diner swung open then and Saitou Hajime himself strode in. Tokio would have been significantly happier to see him if he had arrived just five minutes earlier. Men. Always coming and going at their leisure.

His eyes settled on her and though she pretended not to see him, his gaze pierced her and she had to work ten times harder at keeping her eyes focused on the curtains she was coloring.

Harada removed his feet from the booth, spinning on his stool to face the counter, and even Masa hopped down from her perch and went to work preparing Sanosuke's breakfast for him.

Traitors.

"Generally a table's purpose is best served when it is free of debris."

His cool, slick voice slithered through the air, sending an exciting chill up Tokio's spine, no matter how desperately she tried to stop it. From the corner of her eye, she saw a while gloved hand reach down calmly and, with two fingers, lift one of her drawings up and off the surface.

"Don't touch my stuff."

"I don't like rude hostesses," he told her, still holding the sketch, "It's impolite not to greet your guest."

Tokio looked up, snatching the paper from him. "It's even ruder not to R.S.V.P. at all," she shot back, irritated with him for not having come sooner.

He looked down at her, unamused. "I believe the invitation was open ended."

She couldn't argue with that. "Well, what do you want?" she demanded.

"Don't talk to me like I'm intruding, woman. I've no time for that."

For a moment, they stared at each other, daring the other to make the next move. Tokio took the time to observe him, standing straight and tall, long spidery bangs falling over his dangerous golden eyes, the image of a cage. A caged wolf.

No, she thought to herself. He wasn't a man who could be caged or tamed. The way he carried himself was proof of that. He wasn't a cocky young man, taking advantage of his position, he was a self assured, self _made_ man. As young as he might be (though she was having a difficult time pinning his age exactly), he knew where he stood in the world, no one was going to tell him otherwise, and _no one_ was going to stand in his way as he advanced in it.

That was what had drawn her to him in the first place. At the club, _The Empress_, he had shown no interest in her. It wasn't that he had been turned off by _her_, but he was too good for a woman who used her body to entertain. He was a type of man who was above temptation and vice, _better_ than other men, and immune to her feminine wiles.

He was a challenge.

Tokio normally had little interest in men. Her job as Ophelia was nothing more than an act, a part she had learned to play perfectly, and a skin she could easily shed. No, Takagi Tokio was perfectly content sitting in a diner at five in the morning, enjoying what was dinner to her and breakfast to everyone else, surrounded by her few friends, and her designs.

But then he had come along, all not caring and condescending and she thought that maybe the regular presence of a man might not be so bad.

Sanosuke didn't count.

"Well then," she said, more gently this time, tucking away her project into various pockets in her giant folder and sliding it back into her portfolio, an unspoken invitation for him to sit. "why did you come?"

"While I don't approve of associating with your type," he began, sliding himself onto the seat across from her, "one thing has me vexed."

"And what might that be?" she asked sweetly, handing him a menu. He frowned at her and she added, "I'm buying."

Setting the menu down, he folded his gloved hands and looked her directly in the eye. It was the sort of look an interrogator might use to deliver the final case cracking question to an eyewitness, the culprit.

"You have no criminal record."

"And this surprises you?" she asked, opening up the menu, even though she knew exactly what she'd be eating.

"I don't believe we need to touch upon the reason I had assumed you would have several offenses in the system."

"Oh well, you know what they say about assuming."

Saitou didn't blink, but his tone darkened. "I beg your pardon?"

Glancing up, Tokio gave him an innocently questioning look. She could hear Harada snickering beside them.

"All I meant, officer, was that-"

"Inspector."

She blinked. "W-what?"

"Inspector," he repeated. "That is my title."

This impressed her. "How old are you, inspector?" she asked with no hint of mockery in her voice. She was curious, genuinely curious. He didn't look old enough to hold such a position, but she supposed anyone dedicated enough could make his way anywhere. She was living proof of that.

There was no reason for him to reveal his age to her; it would affect nothing, but he couldn't stop himself as the number _twenty-six _slipped through his teeth. A separate part of his brain must have known this was a good decision because yet another part of his mind took pleasure in her awed expression.

"I know why you're here," she said, sitting back and crossing her arms. His arched brow was an indication for her to continue. "You want to know my story. Your strong desire to carry out justice _needs _to know how a woman such as myself could possibly do the job I do and have no background in crime. You want to know exactly how it is that I ended up where I am, praying that I slip up and whatever it is I've been involved in comes to surface. You think I've been flying under the radar and you are here to administer the appropriate punishment."

"You are far more perceptive than I originally gave you credit for," he mused, turning to reach for the cream as Masa poured his coffee.

"You'll find me much more everything than you originally gave me credit for," she told him, sticking her glasses back into her hair.

A smile appeared on his face then, a thin, forced thing, but a smile nonetheless.

"Enlighten me then, Ophelia. Tell me all about the saintly stripper that you are."

She snorted. "Saintly? Maybe not, but if there's one thing I can assure you of, it's that I'm not snorting coke off my kid's pencil case."

He didn't react to this statement, not knowing whether it was meant as a joke or not, and she didn't give him any indication either way. Settling in on her seat, she took a pencil in her hands, tapped it on the table a few times in thought, and began her tale.

"I was born in the country. My parents own a small dairy farm out there with a bed and breakfast. I grew up there, went to school, you know, the whole nine. We weren't really poor, but what we had to spare really depended on how good the vacation seasons were. Some years we got a lot of customers, some years we didn't. All in all we were happy.

"I met Masa when I was eight. Her family stayed at my house for a long weekend and we became best friends immediately. Our parents grew friendly and they came back to stay with us for one long weekend every year. Some years in the summer Masa would stay with us for a whole week and those were always the best summers.

"One year, I came here. I'd never been to the city before, but after staying here for a whole week and seeing everything that there was to see, I dunno, I fell in love.

"I had picked up a few magazines in the bookstore, really fancy decorating mags that we didn't get way out in my neck of the woods. I couldn't believe the things people could do with _space_. With _rooms_. With _houses._ It fascinated me and I became obsessed.

"By the time I entered high school, I was rearranging my parents' house twice a month, just to get my fix. I knew that I absolutely had to go to school for design. My parents wanted me to help them run their business, but they knew how much I loved it, and being as supportive as they are, they wanted me to live my dreams."

"Isn't that sweet," Saitou drawled, lifting his mug to his lips.

"Oh shut up," she quipped, earning her a raised brow, but she ignored it, continuing, "My parents didn't have enough money to send me to the university I wanted to go to, so I told them that if they would allow it, I'd stay with Masa's family and work to pay my own tuition. I took dance as a kid and was really involved in theatre throughout school so I figured I'd be able to get some sort of gig here, maybe a dance teacher or a community theatre group while I waitressed or something.

"As you can imagine, that didn't work out. I didn't have enough experience for teaching dance and community theatre just doesn't pay what I thought it would. I was working here in the diner, but that barely covered the costs for my books. Masa joked to me one time saying I should strip. I have a pretty face and some, as she phrased it, _stellar tits_."

Saitou sputtered on his coffee. From what he had seen of Sugawara Masa, the phrase _stellar tits_ did not seem to be something she was capable of uttering. Apparently women were very different when in the presence of only each other.

"And this is important," she said sharply, tapping the pencil against the table again, "this is where Masa and I differ. Masa is a one man woman. She's engaged to Sanosuke and that's how it is. She might say some daring stuff, but she'd never act on it. I'm not so conservative. I'm no hussy, but let me tell you, her suggestion wasn't a joke, it was a dare. A dare I was more than willing to greet head on.

"I was surprised at how well my first job went. The place was a dive, an absolute pit and I quit after two weeks. Still, in that two weeks I had made more money than all of my years of part time work combined. Sex sells, after all.

"I got another job at another club immediately after that and within two months I was living on my own and my first year of university was completely paid off. I went from club to club. Some were good, some were pretty terrible, but I never stayed at one too long, always looking for something bigger and better. Everyone who hired me said I had so much potential and most of my clients would ask my why I was there when I could have been at _The Empress._ That was my goal.

"_Potential_ quickly became tangible. I met Papa G at a place called _The Golden Eagle. _It's not a bad place. He had me alone for about a half an hour, testing me out, I guess. Got himself a nice lap dance, a couple of glasses of champagne, some good visuals, and then he was gone, leaving me with nothing but the scent of his cologne and his business card.

"Lots of girls have fallen for Papa G. Most of the girls I work with are in love with him. They live to please him and he knows it. But he's a smart man, and his good business sense is what has made _The Empress _what it is today. I've never loved him, but I respect him for that. He's good to us and he knows that we run the show. We have the final say in most matters involving clients because his philosophy is that happy girls make happy customers."

Saitou held up his hand to stop her. He had heard many a tale of this Papa G, owner of _The Empress_ and easily the wealthiest man in the industry as far as their country was concerned.

"What do you mean by happy girls make happy customers?"

"Well," she said, doodling idly on the placemat, "say I'm making the rounds, giving private dances and this Johnny whose fantasy I may or may not be fulfilling starts getting a little frisky. Regardless of what he's paid for, I can stop, I can leave, or I can have him thrown out. Papa G will have lost one client, but if I had to sit there and take it, I'd be pissed and my performance for the rest of the night would be severely lacking. That could lose him several customers. It's pretty basic, when you get down to it. We get what we want, and he gets what he wants."

Saitou nodded slowly and Tokio took another breath.

"I told you that I started dancing to pay my tuition. That was true. It sucked and I hardly ever slept, but I finished school last year. I have my degree and no student loans or debts to any university."

"Then why do you continue to do it?"

Greed was a factor that often played into the career of a woman in Tokio's standing. Greed and security. He was right. As an entertainer at _The Empress_, she made quite a bit of money and with only a bachelor's degree in interior design and no real experience, the pay cut she would be taking could very well be unbearable.

Tokio looked at him dead on.

"The dream."

To this, he raised a brow. "The dream?"

She nodded. "Yeah. The dream. As soon as I started working for Papa G, the money that I was taking home each night was unreal. At first I was afraid to even walk home, having so much cash on me. Men really like me because I look so innocent they say. It's pretty gross when you get down to the reality of it, but I have to thank God for all the dirty old men out there. There's a lot of them, and the ones that have deep pockets are more than willing to empty them for a glance at something they used to have.

"Once my tuition was paid off, I started a savings account. One thing that I really pride myself in above all else is that I never let the lifestyle consume me. No matter how stressed I was or how many deadlines I knew I wasn't going to meet, I never once thought, _oh I can just quit school and strip until I get old._ I know a lot of girls who did that and they regret it, but they're just stuck in this mentality that they _have_ to stay.

"Well I didn't really care for all that money just _sitting there_, so I bought a house. Then I got my license and bought a car. I always wanted my own car. So what I'm telling you, inspector, is that my dream, _the dream_, is to be completely debt free. My house is the only thing that I have any debt left on. My car is paid, I have no credit cards left, and like I said, my tuition is done.

"I have six months left on my mortgage. I have a savings account that I could live on quite comfortably in the event I ever lost my job, and three smaller savings accounts for when I have kids, for their educations. I made myself a promise that once I had everything I needed in life, savings and no debt, I'd quit dancing, but I would work as hard as humanly possible to get there in the shortest amount of time possible."

When she stopped to breathe, Saitou could do nothing but stare. Was she serious? Surely she did, in fact make enough money for this sort of thing, but lifestyle choices simply did not allow for her to actually have the clarity to go through with it.

But she didn't appear to be lying.

"And your savings-"

"I could live for fifty years on my savings alone," she said firmly. "And my children will have the funds to attend Yale should they so choose."

She _wasn't_ lying. He could see it in her eyes. She was absolutely serious and had gone to an extreme that most normal people would never even think to consider in order to fulfill her dreams.

Smiling, Tokio picked up her coffee. "The good thing about being a dancer is the anonymity. All the makeup, the wig, the different personality, I get to leave it all behind at four-thirty when I leave. Once I quit, I can leave it behind forever."

"Not forever," Saitou reminded her, "It will be on your resume, your job history."

Tokio shrugged. "Yeah. It might take me a while to get a design job, but worst case scenario I start my own studio. That's why I'm doing this," she motioned to the bag at her side, "I'm freelancing on my days off so I can build up my portfolio."

For several minutes, Saitou said nothing, sitting there with his coffee while she stifled yawn after yawn. Harada had clapped him on the back some time ago, signaling that he was off to the station, and Masa was busy scurrying around keeping up with the breakfast rush.

"You have determination," he said finally.

"You're impressed," she said with a smile.

He scoffed. "Hardly. Anyone can make money selling their bodies. You happen to do so in a high class establishment."

"Hold it!" she cried, sticking her palm in his face. "_The Empress_ may be a place where sex is encouraged but like I've said before: We run the show. I have _never_ had sex for money. I'm not desperate, inspector."

He blinked. "You've never had sex for money."

"No," she said, offended, "Ophelia may be a vivacious minx, but when all is said and done, she is still me, Takagi Tokio, and no matter _what_ is written on my resume, I'm no prostitute."

"I can't imagine your dear parents approve of this career choice, _Takagi-san_," he said, pulling out a cigarette from his breast pocket.

"They don't know," she said offhandedly, "I've been pretty vague with them about what I do here. I don't like the idea of lying to them, but they've been too good to me to put shame on them. Masa's parents won't tell them either. They don't really like what I'm doing, but they're good people and they know the difference between Tokio and Ophelia."

"Besides," she added, chuckling, "they know that once Sano and Masa finally get married, I'll probably be paying for most of it. That's pretty hard to dislike."

"Indeed," he mused.

Tokio sat back again, flashing him a friendly grin. "So now that you know the truth you can stop looking at me like I'm a stain on humanity."

He stood abruptly then and she bit back a laugh. "It was just a suggestion," she said gently. "I'd hate to ruin your upstanding reputation as a protector of our city."

She was teasing him, but this was different than the last time they had met. There was no sensual undertone, no hint that she was trying to pursue what lay in his pants.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning to discuss your relationship with Harada," he said smoothly, "I'll be expecting pancakes."

Tokio smiled smugly. "Sorry. I'm not working tonight."

Placing the cigarette between his lips, he cast her a dominating glance.

"I know."

xxxx

**Author's Note: **I did all the math for Tokio's salary. It's legit. Tempting, too. Roughly 780k/year (USD, that is) Makes me wish I could dance. Or didn't have the body of a 12 year old boy.

'Round here though we have _The Foxy Lady_. Not really all that classy. They do have a _Legs n' Eggs _breakfast special. I think that's pretty hilarious


	3. Detectives & Desire

**Author's Note: **Okay you twisted my arm. This chapter is cutting the line while _The Arrangement _slumps its shoulders in disappointment. =P Just kidding. I secretly wanted to work more with this one. It's too fun.

I'm not accustomed to writing lighthearted stuff though so I apologize if my pacing is off and it seems to be moving too quickly. I'm still not sure how long I intend for this to be.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**Chapter Three**

_In which our hero and heroine realize important things about each other, but not themselves_

When Tokio didn't show up the next morning, Saitou found himself more irritated than amused. He had only half expected her to be there, she had even _told_ him that she wouldn't be there, but he had pulled out the Saitou family 'look'. Save Okita, there wasn't a person in the world who could defy 'the look'. It even sent Harada crawling back into whatever hole it was that he chose to climb out of that day.

He hadn't needed to come out this early. He was perfectly capable of making his own breakfast and didn't see much need to do so before six a.m. The first night he had met her at the diner had been a fluke. Loaded with work, he had risen early with the hopes of getting something done in the quiet hours of the morning. The second time, he was willing to admit was out of sheer curiosity, for all of the reasons that she had so eloquently laid out for him.

This time, he desired more answers from her. Her story rang true and he had no reason not to believe her (he had checked with both the university and the bank that held her mortgage. The car dealership had been a little more difficult to track down, but that too checked out,) but there was one detail nagging at his brain.

Why, if he was engaged to her best friend, would she accept Harada as a client if she had the choice to say no?

She had seemed to be a level headed, if slightly cocky and irriating woman and if not for her habit of dancing in the near nude, he might have even considered paying for the coffee they had spoken over.

So then was Sugawara Masa completely oblivious of the going-ons between Tokio and Harada? If so, then there was no reason for the waitress to continue on her friendship with the grey eyed beauty. She would have to know the truth behind her so-called friend and though it may be difficult to take at first, it would be for the best.

Not that he cared, of course.

When Saitou entered the diner again, around one in the afternoon, it was not in search of the entertainer, but food.

The food was good here; he wouldn't deny it, and it was only a few short blocks from the station. As Harada had a personal connection with everyone in the building, they were treated very well and Saitou had no qualms about choosing the establishment.

Masa was there, as usual, and just ending her shift. She worked five to one, for obvious reasons, and Saitou positively shuddered when she became all doe eyed at Harada's greeting. Foolish girl.

Just after their food arrived, Saitou felt a strange presence behind him. A small shadow was cast over his shoulder and whoever it was that had just stepped into the diner had no real intentions of moving just yet. Generally, this wouldn't have bothered him, nor would he have noticed it for much longer than a fraction of a second. The eyes on the back of his head, however, was not something he could ignore.

"You're late," he said simply, not turning around.

Curious as to why his friend had just said such a thing, Okita, who had at last returned from his vacation, turned, and upon seeing the short woman glaring over the booth, he let out a wide grin.

"It's Miss Ophelia!"

Not giving Saitou the time to turn around, Tokio appeared beside him and with her hands on her hips, cast a disapproving frown at the three police men.

"You're sitting at my table."

Masa, standing behind the counter counting her tips, knew the scene that was about to unfold and thinking quickly, ripped a receipt off the pad, jotted something quickly with permanent marker, and, sticking a piece of tape onto it, reached over and handed it to Tokio.

Saitou looked over at her with a satisfied grin on his face. "I don't see your name on it."

Knowing that her best friend was good for times such as these, Tokio slapped the piece of paper down, running her thumb over the tape to smooth it out.

"Really?" she asked, brows raised, "because I believe this says, _Property of Takagi Tokio, courtesy of the Sugawara family."_

Masa quickly ducked down as Saitou's sharp eyes snapped to her, but both Okita and Harada were hiding giggles behind their hands.

Reaching forward, he peeled the makeshift sign off the surface of the table, slowly crumpling it up in his gloved hand.

"Childish," he said, raising his fist and tossing the paper at her. It bounced off of her forehead and she scowled, crossing her arms.

Harada began to slide himself out of the booth, choosing to take his lunch over to the other side of the restaurant where it looked like some college girls were enjoying a study session. They looked bored. He'd have to entertain them.

"Where are you going?" Saitou asked him, his mouth set in a line of disapproval, "I have something I would like to discuss with you."

"Eh, maybe some other time, Saitou," he said, standing and dusting off his pants, "there are ladies in need of my company. Have fun with Tokio, though."

He gave a short wave and headed over to the girls, much to the dismay of Masa, who was standing with her hand half raised and her mouth open, about to ask him if he would walk her home. Seeing him scoot into the booth of estrogen, her face fell and she went back to her counting.

Not waiting for an invitation, Tokio took up Harada's spot, and, ignoring Saitou completely, flashed Okita a smile.

"Congratulations, Okita-san," she said cheerfully, pulling Harada's abandoned water towards her, "I'm sorry about what happened at The Empress."

Happily, he laughed, "Oh, it's okay. It's your job, after all."

Together they began conversation on his wedding, his honeymoon, and of course, his bride. This irritated Saitou. For one thing, Okita was _his_ friend, and Tokio had absolutely no business coming over and acting as if she had known him forever. Secondly, Okita had _just_ exhausted himself of all newly wedded details. There was no need, _no need_, to give him a reason to start up again.

"Shou-chan wanted a big wedding, and I mean a _big_ wedding-"

"Okita."

Okita paused, hands in the air for his description of just how big this wedding was to be, and he looked over at Saitou, who made a small gesture with his hands for the smaller of the two to stop talking. Okita's mouth closed instantly and he lowered his arms.

"It was really big," he told Tokio, relaxing and sitting back, before adding with a whisper, despite Saitou's annoyance, "_really big._"

"I don't doubt it," she replied, "I mean, I didn't realize you were engaged to Yamata Shousha."

"Takagi-san," came Saitou's voice, warning her not to get into it. Having grown up with the two lovebirds, he did not feel the need to sit here and re-live it. Once was quite enough. Perhaps even too much.

"Oh," laughed Okita, "Yeah. My Shou-chan and I have been together forever."

"_Okita."_

Tokio smiled, taking a sip of the water she had stolen. "You know I danced for her father? He's such a pig. No offense, or anything."

"TOKIO!"

Pulling the straw out from between her lips, Tokio gave Saitou a curious glance. "Can I help you, inspector?"

Taking a calming breath, he folded his hands on the table, as he had the morning before, and, unblinking, stared ahead at her.

"I believe we have something to discuss."

"No," she said, pointing a finger at him, "You said you wanted to discuss Sanosuke over pancakes. You are clearly eating pan-fried vegetables. Veggies and cakes are not the same, no matter what you cook them in."

Pushing the plate aside, he resisted the urge to strangle her. "You will explain to me your relationship with Harada if I have to force it from you."

"That desperate to catch me being bad, are you?"

Her teasing tone was not appreciated by the stony faced wolf before her, but Okita, seated on the inside of the booth and therefore trapped (it really didn't appear that Saitou would be moving any time soon), looked at her excitedly. Saitou had given him all the details of his findings on this woman and he, too, was eager to know why she got on so well with Harada.

"Were you one of his girlfriends?" he asked.

Saitou scoffed. "A woman on his rotating schedule, perhaps."

Slamming the cup down onto the table, Tokio reached over and gave Saitou's chest a small shove.

"You really want to know?" she asked, settling back in her seat, "then fine, but don't let your jaw hit the floor too hard when you realize how obvious it is."

Saitou raised a brow, a display of arrogance and misplaced self assurance. "Your affections must have been free then," he told her, "as you say you've never whored yourself out."

"For your information," she snapped, "Sanosuke is a better man than you think."

When he gave her a sarcastic look of hurt, she added, "and a better detective than you give him credit for."

Okita's phone began to ring and when he answered it with a grin, Saitou stood, allowing him to leave. It would be better this way. Tokio would have nothing to distract her.

Once alone, she continued. "You're new around here, so I doubt that you know the ins and outs of what goes on in the city just yet.

"While it's true that Sanosuke is a philandering asshole, he's not just an unfaithful fiancee or a vice ridden cop. When he comes into the club, yeah sure he enjoys the company of women, but you have to understand what sort of place The Empress is and what sort of clientele we get."

"Men," he replied, "Rich men."

"Yeah? And how many of those men are rich through hard and honest work?"

Saitou leaned back. "I'm not following."

With a roll of her eyes, Tokio rested her elbows on the table. "Ophelia's job is to make men want her, to make men trust her. And if there is one thing men love to talk about above all things, it's themselves. Lust is an amazing thing, inspector. It clouds the mind and with a little bit of help, frees the tongue.

"A man will tell me most anything if he honestly believes I hold him in a higher affection than any of my other clients."

"And where do your lapdances with Harada come into play?" he wondered, pulling the red plastic cup of water from her hands and taking a long sip from the straw. He was in desperate need of a cigarette, but it would have to wait.

He hated waiting.

"I've been friends with Sanosuke for a long time. It's only natural that I would help him with his work."

"Ah, so you are his contact."

She shrugged. "There's a bunch of us. I'll be honest though. As much of a jerk as he can be, I really look forward to seeing him there. Somewhere beneath the layers of pervert and scoundrel, there's a good guy who just isn't ready to settle down.

"He cares about me, you know. He'll come in and pay for an hour or hour and a half alone with me and sometimes we just hang out. No dancing, no touching. We'll talk, have a couple drinks, and goof off. It's nice, you know.

"Papa G knows all about this and doesn't say anything because Sano's one of the regulars and despite all his policing, he never causes trouble. He's actually stopped trouble on a couple of occasions. He's got a good sense of when one of us is getting uncomfortable, even if some of the girls are too desperate for cash to say anything.

"He'd make a good bodyguard. Masa's lucky. When he finally realizes he's engaged for real, he'll probably be a really awesome husband."

"I find that difficult to imagine," Saitou murmured.

"So is that it?" Tokio asked, looking up at him. "Am I free of your skepticism?"

"Sugawara is completely aware of what goes on between you and Harada?" he asked, not quite ready to end the conversation. There was something quite enthralling about watching her get worked up.

"Yeah," she replied, "it was pretty awkward at first, but like her parents, she knows the difference between Tokio and Ophelia."

"Also," she added, "outside of the club, Sano isn't affectionate with me at all. He doesn't kiss or hug or anything like that. He might be insensitive, but he's not an idiot."

"No," Saitou said firmly, "He is most definitely an idiot."

At that, Tokio cracked a smile, letting her teeth light up her face as she laughed and in that moment, Saitou saw a glimpse of something he had never expected to find.

xxxx

A few days after her last interrogation, Tokio was caught completely by surprise. As she descended the back stairs of The Empress, wrapping her light jacket around her body, she snapped her clutch shut and scanned the parking lot for her cab. She had the same cab driver every night and had become friendly with the man.

He liked her because she tipped well.

He hadn't arrived yet, but she wasn't concerned. He was always within the two minute bracket.

As her feet left the last wooden step and touched the pavement, a deep voice broke through the silence of the early morning.

"You still owe me pancakes."

Letting out a short scream, Tokio's hand flew to her heart as Saitou pushed himself off the wall of the building and she tried to steady her breathing. _What was he doing here?_

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" she snapped, shoving his hand away as he tried to take her elbow, "Shit, inspector. A little warning, you know?"

Lighting up a cigarette, he looked down at her. "Watch your mouth."

"Yeah well," she said, pulling her coat more tightly, "you really can't just freak people out like that."

"What are you afraid of?" he asked, blowing a steady stream of smoke out into the darkness. "There is plenty of security here."

"I don't know," she said defensively, "It's just scary, okay? I mean, it's always quiet out here and then I have some guy popping out at me and telling me to buy him pancakes! That's some serial killer shit, that's what that is."

"I told you to watch your mouth," he said plainly, successfully taking her arm, and leading her away from the building, "and you do owe me pancakes."

"I never agreed to buying you pancakes."

"You never had to," he told her, "but I'm not paying for them."

Considering this, Tokio glanced up at him, wondering why her feet wouldn't stop moving. She was walking with him, just as he clearly wanted, but even as natural as it felt, she suddenly realized that she didn't know _why_.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, "Really, inspector, you could have-"

"Hajime."

Stumbling over her feet for a few steps, Tokio rightened herself with a strong grip on his arm. "What?"

"I am giving you permission to call me by my name," he told her. "My name is Hajime. You will use it."

"Oh." She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and continued on with her inquiry. "Then why are you here, Hajime? There are easier, less sleep depriving ways of reaching me. I heard you looked up my file. Surely you know my phone number."

Saitou didn't give her the pleasure of eye contact. "I told you. You owe me pancakes."

"But you could have just waited for me at the diner."

It was true, he could have, but he had realized something terrible as he had listened to her second explanation of her actions, and that something was jealousy. Even though he had seen the woman a grand total of four (now five) times, she was right. He _was _impressed with her and that was no easy feat.

When she had been talking with Okita, she had been so animated, so alive, and despite what he thought of her, Saitou had felt a small pang of nostalgia, wishing to see the dawn's glow on her hair once more.

During her tale of her dealings with Harada he had admitted that his colleague was much more dedicated to his work than he had originally assumed and when she had gone on about how he looked after her, Saitou had been hit with a rather sudden, and rather crushing blow.

Harada had a woman, even though he didn't realize it, and Tokio was far too good for him to be dealing with. She knew exactly where she was going and had a clear path leading towards her goals. She was well put together, well educated, and free of any scandalous drama.

It was petty, and it was a stupid show of masculine petulance, but if this woman was as professional as she claimed to be, then she deserved a little bit of help from someone far more capable than the rooster haired womanizer. For example, there was no reason for her to be out alone at such an hour.

These musings, of course, were completely private, never to be uttered, and not even entirely recognized by Saitou himself. In the thinking part of his brain, she owed him breakfast and he would see to it that she made good on her word. This, of course, meant retrieving her himself.

Every morning.

At first Tokio had been annoyed. She had a system. She'd clock out, call her cab, change her clothes, get in the cab, go to the diner. This was they way it worked and she was perfectly capable of doing it herself.

While yes, she had agreed to buy him pancakes, each morning he ordered everything but. Maybe it was to irritate her, maybe he didn't even _like_ pancakes, but regardless of the reason, it gave him an excuse to come by again and drag her down the street.

She knew this game. He thought that since she was an honest woman she couldn't possibly manage life at four-thirty in t he morning. What was it with men, she wondered, that they seemed to think that girls were so weak? Had she not proved herself to him already?

Over the weeks, she found that she didn't mind him so much. It took nearly forty-five minutes to walk from The Empress to the diner and though Saitou wasn't a man of many words, she had learned quite a bit about him.

For instance, he had begun smoking at twenty. He was stressed, he had told her. She didn't see what was so stressful about second year of university that he would feel the need to pick up such a detrimental habit, but he (forcefully) refused to speak on the subject any further, so she didn't pry.

She also learned that he was a gentleman. His words were scathing, and the looks he gave her condescending, but his movements were fluid, practiced, and habitual. He probably never realized when he opened the door for her, or that he always made sure she walked on the inside of the sidewalk. Hell, Tokio was willing to bet that when he nearly pounded a rogue thug into the ground for using foul language in the presence of a lady, he was simply exercising justice and keeping the city clean.

Of course, this never stopped _him_ from using foul language in front of ladies. Should she ever call him out on it however (and she did), he simply looked down his nose at her and with his typical air of arrogance, reminded her that she wasn't a lady at all.

Their budding friendship did not go unnoticed by his friends who, at every chance they got, wormed their way into his affairs.

Lunchtime was one such affair and there wasn't much he could do about it. On her days off, Tokio appeared there around the same time as they did. With her steadily strengthening relationship with Saitou came a complete acceptance of his friends, and their use of her table. Okita had even smoothed out her wrinkled proof of ownership and had gone out of his way to frame it and place it in the center of the table each time they ate.

"I just don't get it," Masa said one day, sighing as she rested her head on her folded arms. Her shift was done, Harada was nowhere to be found, and she had joined Tokio and the two police men at their booth.

"I do everything for him," she went on, "why does he have to date other women?"

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Sugawara," Saitou clipped, "You should find yourself a better man."

Okita looked at her sympathetically. "I'm sure Harada-san is just going through a phase, Masa-chan."

"His whole life?" she asked, voice muffled by her sleeves. It wasn't often that she let his ways disturb her, but there were certain times during the month that a girl couldn't help but get just a little upset.

Tokio put a thoughtful finger up to her lips. "You know, Masa. Maybe he just doesn't realize how much you love him."

"That's pretty difficult," Okita put in, "Masa-chan does everything for him."

"Well yes," Tokio admitted, "but that isn't anything new. He's so used to being waited on hand and foot, I don't think he realizes why she does it."

Masa lifted her head, using her fingers to push back her wavy black hair. "I'm not going to confess to him. He'll laugh at me and say, _Oh baby, you're so cute._" With a grunt, she lowered her head back down. "I hate when he calls me baby."

"No," said Tokio, "You are going to woman up and _show_ him how you feel."

Before she had a chance to argue, Tokio pushed her from the booth and scooted out herself.

"Stand there," she instructed her friend, ushering her over a few paces and tapping her shoulders to signal her not to move. Satisfied, she turned to the two men before her.

"Now which one of you wants to be the dummy?"

"What are we doing, Takagi-san?" Okita asked.

"Nothing worth our time," Saitou noted pushing his empty plate away. Masa moved to clear it, but Tokio's reprimanding grip stopped her.

"_We_," she explained, "are going to show Masa how to capture a man. I need one of you to be her test subject."

"Tokio," whined Masa, crossing her arms, "this is not going to work."

Tokio ignored this. "Masa here has never had a boyfriend so she doesn't know anything about men. I think she may have given a boy her e-mail once, but I'm fairly certain that was for a science project they were working on together.

Face burning, Masa glowered at her friend. "You didn't have to tell them _that_," she hissed.

Though Okita was about to interject with a statement on how it was perfectly acceptable to be devoted to one person your entire life, Saitou cut him off.

"That's no good."

This surprised even Tokio, who knew that he had absolutely no interest in womanly matters, _especially _those pertaining to Harada.

"Harada is a man who likes the bold, the experienced, and the dangerous," he went on, "it's no wonder he doesn't desire you. Whispy virgins are of little interest to him."

Masa blanched. "Y-you think I shouldn't be a virgin?"

Saitou gave her a bored look. "I don't care what you do."

"I think it's sweet that you're saving yourself for him," Okita said with a gentle smile, "girls don't really do that anymore."

"Neither do men," she replied, slumping her shoulders.

Tokio waved this off with her hand. "Men never have. The need to breed is in their blood. They can't help it."

"I waited for Shou-chan," Okita told her with a small pout, but Saitou snorted.

"Holding off sex until you reach the age of consent hardly counts as _waiting_," he responded, "and the fact that you've been with the same girl since you were _six_ makes your entire point null and void."

While Tokio giggled at the exchange, Masa's eyes began to water and her bottom lip quivered. "You've l-loved her that long?"

"Oh for crying out loud!" Tokio shouted, giving her friend's face a couple light smacks. "get a hold of your hormones, woman! Hajime, get over here."

Saitou glanced up. "Excuse me?"

"Come here," she repeated, "I need your help."

"Ask Okita," he told her, pulling out his phone, "I'm busy."

Tokio shook her head. "Can't," she said tugging on his arm and pulling him to a reluctant standing position, "he's married."

With a wide grin, Okita wiggled his way towards the edge of the table. If he wasn't allowed to participate due to his marital status, and _Saitou_ was to take his place, this was going to be very entertaining indeed.

Once Saitou and Masa stood face to face, Tokio cleared her throat. "Now, we all know that Sanosuke is a man who craves affection above all else. In order to successfully gain his attention, you have to take him completely by surprise and show him that you mean _business."_

Masa looked doubtful.

Saitou looked deadly.

"Masa," Tokio said gently, "you need to learn how to kiss him."

Eyes wide, the waitress let her gaze travel up the body of the man before her. He was big, much bigger than she was. Though he was similar in size to Sanosuke, there was a terrifying power that Saitou emitted and it was far too much for someone like her to deal with. It didn't help that he looked about ready to spit fire.

"I don't think-"

"No, no!" Tokio said sharply, catching her wrist as she tried to sit. "If you can learn how to kiss a man, believe me, he will never look at you like a childhood friend again. You may be inexperienced and you might be shy, but if you show him that you are willing to _learn_, I will bet you any sum of money that Sanosuke will be more than happy to teach."

"Oh, that's true," Okita agreed.

"This is ridiculous," spat Saitou, spinning to resume his seat.

_Watch_, Tokio mouthed to Masa, reaching forward and grabbing hold of his collar.

He hadn't wanted to turn, he hadn't _meant _to look at her, but in the fraction of a second that he watched her run her tongue over her bottom lip, he nearly lost himself completely.

It happened in an instant.

Tokio released her freezing grip on his shirt, sliding both of her hands over his cheekbones. They settled on the back of his head, fingernails teasing the fringe on the nape of his neck. Their pull was strong, difficult to defy, and when she stood on her toes and crushed her mouth to his, he went rigid.

It was an act, a display, and he knew it, but no matter what his brain was telling him to do, his body, for the first time in his life, betrayed him. His right hand found its way into her hair, and he cursed the elastic keeping his exploration to a minimum. Keeping her in place, he molded his own lips against hers, kissing her back more fiercely than was necessary.

He could feel her knees going weak and he smiled against her. She was smart mouthed, annoying, and far more perceptive than any woman ought to be. It would serve her right to be bested at her own game.

But Tokio didn't feel bested. She didn't know what she felt, but whatever it was, it was _wonderful_. She had grown to enjoy his company, look forward to their walks, and even tolerate his smoking, but never once had she fantasized about him. Now, with his hands on her, it was all she could do to keep from throwing him up against the counter and tearing his clothes off.

"Well, shit."

Harada's voice broke through the air, heavy with newly discovered desire and Tokio pulled away, stepping back awkwardly. Saitou cleared his throat and rightened, pretending not to notice Okita's shocked, yet approving expression. Masa had paled completely.

"So I thought you said he wasn't your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Tokio snapped, snatching her purse up and brushing by him as she stormed out of the restaurant, thoroughly embarrassed.

Harada gave a shrug and nudged Saitou with his elbow. "So, what about it, Haji? You guys shackin' up yet or what?"

"No," he replied stiffly, "what you witnessed was a lapse in judgement and a lack of self control. It won't happen again."

Without another word, he, too, swept away.

"Oh my God," Masa breathed, collapsing onto a bar stool. "they're falling in love."

"You said it, baby," Harada agreed, giving Okita a high five as he sat across the table from him. "though I doubt either one of them will admit it any time soon."

"You're right," said Okita, chewing on his bottom lip, "they're going to need help."

"Hey, Okita, did you say you are going to need someone to watch the house in a couple of weeks?"

Okita furrowed his brow, trying to remember ever putting in such a request, but as he caught wind of what Harada was suggesting, a wicked grin spread across his features.

"Well, Shou-chan _did_ say she wanted to see an old friend in Tokyo for a long weekend."

Harada shrugged. "And really, you should go visit your mom."

"And sisters," Okita added.

"Oh yes," he agreed, "most definitely."

It was then that Masa found enough air to breathe successfully again. "What makes you so certain that Tokio will agree to house sit with Saitou-san?"

"The cute," Harada replied solemnly. "You can't deny the cute."

Masa tucked her hair behind her ear. "What's cute?"

"Ta-chan," Okita said cheerfully, flicking through the photos on his phone. Finding what he was looking for, he shoved the image into her vision.

"_No one_ can say no to Ta-chan."

xxxx

**Author's Notes: **Ta-chan! :D :D


	4. Nerves & News

**Author's Note: **I couldn't help it. This story was lacking mention of Katsura. :3

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**Chapter Four**

_In which our hero and heroine try to muddle through their emotions  
_

As Tokio stormed down the street, she felt nothing short of furious. She was furious at Sanosuke for being so insensitive. Furious at Masa for being such a dolt, furious at Hajime for being such a damned good kisser, and absolutely, unforgivably furious with herself for enjoying it.

There was a reason she didn't get involved with men. Every boyfriend she had taken up since beginning her dancing career had ended in a horrible fit of jealousy (on his part), and having so much to do with her life, Tokio found the whole idea to be a waste of time. When she was settled, and exactly where she wanted to be, _then_ she would begin to date.

"Tokio!"

It was Saitou, his pace quick and purposeful, and his voice commanding: the air of a man not about to be walked out on, and not at all a desperate suitor wishing to reverse a rejection.

She didn't acknowledge him on her own, but he hardly gave her the chance, as he caught up to her with ease, and with little regard for her personal comfort, snagged her by her upper arm and pushed her back up against the brick wall of the nearest alley. His hands slammed against the stone above her head, and he glared down at her.

"Don't you dare run out on me," he seethed.

"I wasn't running out on you," she replied, lifting her chin, challenging him, "it was Sanosuke who drove me away."

As true as it may have been, Saitou hardly accepted that excuse. "I'd like you to explain your actions."

"I'd like you to explain yours!" she shot back, crossing her arms, "what I did was to demonstrate to my friend how she might be able to get her fiancee to look her way once in a while. _You_ are the one who made a show of it."

"I did no such thing," he said calmly, lowering his arms and backing away to light up a cigarette. Flicking out his match, he stared out into the afternoon traffic.

Tokio's breath began to slow, thankful that he had removed himself from her. He was angry too. It was clear. He wasn't very good at hiding his emotions, no matter how limited they may be. Was he angry with her? Or with himself?

"I trusted you."

The words came out far more accusing than she had meant them, and it was obvious that he didn't appreciate them as he stood stiffly, not looking at her.

"I never gave you a reason to," he replied, "your disappointment is your own doing."

"I know."

At that, Saitou turned, watching as she lowered her eyes to the ground.

"It was just a kiss, Tokio," he said gently, "just a kiss."

It wasn't true. As far as Saitou was concerned, nothing was just anything. Everything he did he did for a reason, or else it wasn't worth doing. The fact of the matter was, he wanted her. He wanted her in every way that a man could want a woman. He wanted her in every place, every hour, and for every reason that a man could want a woman.

He had been through his share of girls, but none of them, not a single one of them had made his mind reel the way this one did. There was one that had come close, once, when he was younger, but that had ended as soon as he had found her flipping through a bridal magazine. He wasn't ready to settle down. Not then, not now, not ever.

She had cried (he remembered that vividly), pleading with him and telling him that she had only been looking for the fun of it. Whether she was lying or not hardly mattered to Saitou who had long since hardened himself to the idea of marriage. It hadn't done _his _parents any good, so why would he bother?

The day that he had kicked Hiromu Fumiko out of his life was the day he had decided something very important. He would never be married. It just wasn't worth it.

And then along came Takagi Tokio, this woman who vexed him so. Fumiko had been a normal, respectable girl from a well-to-do family, completely innocent and undeserving of his harsh treatment, and here he was, upstanding, moral, and fully determined to live a normal and respectable life, falling for a _stripper_.

"Why are you standing there looking so pathetic?" he scowled, tossing his cigarette into a puddle and lighting up another.

"This wasn't in my plan," she said truthfully, "I like you because you're safe. You weren't a threat."

Saitou arched a brow, pretending not to be offended by her blatant efforts of shoving him into the 'friend zone'. "Is that what I am now? A threat?"

There was a bitterness in his tone that she didn't like. "I was certain you had no interest in me, Hajime. That's all I meant. I like talking to you, and walking with you, but now..."

"And now?" Saitou was not a patient man. He wished she'd just get to the point she was trying to make. He felt like he was in high school again with this juvenile run-around.

"I don't know," she said, frustrated. He didn't believe her, but it didn't matter, because she didn't believe herself.

Knowing that she wasn't the sort of woman who he could simply shake information out of, he pulled his phone out from his pocket, dialing the number for the station. He'd take the rest of the afternoon off.

"Let's go," he said gruffly, pulling her forward. She didn't ask where they were going, and even when she stood before the door to his apartment, said nothing. Even though he was being rough with her, she wasn't afraid, and knew that he had little intention of picking up where they left off.

"Sit," he ordered, tossing her purse onto the couch and leaving for the kitchen in search of something to drink. For the most part, he had given up drinking when he had given up Fumiko, but there was something pulling at his nerves and he needed to calm them.

Throwing back a sip of whisky, he gripped the counter. This was ridiculous. She had kissed him. That's all there was, and that's all there was going to be, but when he looked over his shoulder at the woman in his living room, he sighed.

When re re-entered her presence, Tokio smiled up at him. "Your house is very clean."

It was a pointless compliment, and it didn't lead to further conversation on the subject.

"You've got three months left on the payment of your own, haven't you?"

They were beating around the bush, skirting the discussion neither of them wanted to have. It was uncharacteristic of both of them, and because of this, they both found themselves growing more and more irritated.

"Yeah," she breathed, "just three more months."

"There's a reason I walk you to the diner each night, Tokio."

Suddenly alert, she snapped her eyes to him. She knew that he enjoyed her company just as much as she did his, but she never expected him to admit it.

As she stared up at him, waiting for him to go on, she realized just what a beautiful man he was. She had never paid much attention to him before. Boundaries had been made at the very beginning of their relationship (for lack of better term) and she had, up until now, been happy not to cross them.

He wasn't conventionally handsome like Harada, who had a sort of a 'bad' look to him, like the rebellious member of a boy band - tough, yet elegant and charming. It was also quite obvious that Saitou was not cute and lovable like Okita was. No one would ever make that mistake.

No, this man was a different sort of attractive. He was chiseled, but not sculpted, not created by someone with an eye for what the majority of women might want. His cheekbones were high, too high for a man, but not feminine. His jaw and chin were angular, sharp, and threatening to match his narrow, golden eyes. His nose was just as geometric as the rest of him, and though it was true that most girls scattered when he plowed through a crowd, Tokio couldn't help but stare. He wasn't ugly; he was merely an acquired taste.

A taste that Tokio had indeed acquired. Not more than one hour ago.

Taking a deep breath, she scooted over, silently inviting him to sit next to her, but he remained standing, watching her, calculating her thoughts.

"Do you even like pancakes?" She hadn't meant to voice that thought aloud, especially as he seemed ready to explain to her just why he met her every night, but Tokio couldn't help it. The question had been at the front of her brain for three months.

Without even flinching, Saitou stared down at her and uttered one word.

"No."

If Tokio had been able to summon her alter ego, she might have sent him a flirtatious grin and said something witty and teasing in return. The awkwardness would leave and she could very well have him beneath her in roughly three minutes.

But Saitou was, in keeping with the way their friendship was playing out, a different sort of man and as badly as she did want him to come closer so she could feel him again, she found it utterly impossible to find Ophelia.

That and she rather doubted he would take kindly to a submissive position.

"I respect you," he said slowly, but gruffly, as if admitting such a thing was an abomination spawned from his tongue, "and though you may very well be capable of handling yourself in the darkness of the night, I do not feel comfortable with the idea."

It was just as she thought, and while she felt the overwhelming desire to spout something sarcastic and wounding of a man's pride, she held her tongue.

"There are only two women on this Earth that I respect," he told her, finally taking up the seat she had offered, "and you are one of them. Consider yourself lucky."

"And the other woman?" Tokio asked curiously.

Saitou stiffened. "It hardly matters."

Tokio sat back and exhaled quietly. "Well, I thank you then," she said earnestly, "and I respect you too."

He turned away from her. "You know nothing about me."

"Maybe not," she replied, shrugging, "but I spend enough time with you to know the details of your character, even if the events that have birthed them remain blank."

"But," she added when he kept silent, "I do want to know."

xxxx

When Okita Shousha strolled through the police station with a giant monster of a dog proudly leading the way, no one even bothered to look up. This was more commonplace than any of them wanted to admit, but her status in society coupled with both the captain and chief's favoritism of her husband made her a force to be reckoned with.

Her dog was simply a frightening addition.

When she pulled open the door that led to the offices of the homicide department, she was greeted by the Chief Inspector, Kondo Isami.

"You're looking rather well today, Shousha," he said with a smile, reaching into a glass bowl on the desk to his right and pulling out a few dog treats.

"I have some exciting news," she told him, doing a little dance as her pet gobbled up the treats, wagging his tail furiously and knocking over a bin of paperwork in the process.

"Go on then," he invited, holding out his arm to let her pass. She thanked him, and tugged on the dog's lead, pulling him away from the canister of treats.

Okita was on the phone when she reached the cluster of desks, so she turned. Spotting Saitou sifting through some papers, she hopped over and threw her elbows down on his work area.

"Good morning Saitou!" she chirped. He ignored her, but when her dog, eighty pounds of muscle and at least five pounds of silvery bushy fur, nuzzled his way under his arm, Saitou looked up.

"Ta-chan," he greeted the dog affectionately, rubbing him between the ears.

"I have something exciting to tell you, Saitou," Shousha went on, flipping her low ponytail over her shoulder and setting her enormous leather bag on his desk. He eyed her in annoyance, but kept quiet.

Unzipping her bag, she dug in, retrieving a blue file folder and flipping it open, dropped it in front of him.

"Isn't he beautiful?"

Saitou looked down at the information she was presenting him with. There was a case file there, one not related to police work, even though he _had_ seen the related homicide file. It wasn't his job, but he did like to know what other precincts were getting in terms of work.

Looking at the photograph that was neatly paper clipped to the file, Saitou couldn't help but smile a bit.

"He looks like Okita."

Shousha cocked her head, spinning the folder to better her view, then glanced back at her husband.

"He does, doesn't he?" she laughed.

"I'm sorry."

Shousha looked at him curiously. He had never, in her entire seventeen years of knowing this man, apologized to her. She observed him carefully. He didn't appear overly worn out, so perhaps he was confusing _congratulations_ with apologies. Either that or this was his dry sense of humor out to get her once more.

Clearing his throat, Saitou clarified. "For what I said to Okita, that day."

Shousha's smile faded slightly and her throat felt tight. Right. He had said the unforgivable. The unforgettable.

"It's in the past," she whispered, pulling the folder back towards her, "and now we're moving forward."

Rubbing Ta-chan's neck in a steady rhythm, Saitou sat back. "So when do you get him?"

"Monday," she said smiling, "we were planning to go over to Tokyo anyway to visit my brother and Sou's parents, so this works out rather well."

He frowned, "Your brother? How well did that go over?"

With a sigh, Shousha cast her sights over to Okita again. He was still jabbering away on the phone, though she couldn't hear what he was talking about.

"We had words," she admitted.

"_You_ had words," Saitou assumed, "no doubt with the screaming and the flying paint."

"He's my _brother_, Hajime!" she hissed, "Sou needs to be more supportive of our relationship."

"Your brother is an ass."

Setting her mouth in a line, Shousha tried to ignore the comment. Her brother (half-brother, really), one Katsura Kogoro, was _not_ an ass.

Not wanting to ruin her day, Saitou sighed and sat up, giving Ta-chan a small nudge. "I'll talk to him," he said, "and he'll go without a fuss."

She grinned, just as Okita set the phone back on the receiver and thanked him, dropping the leash, and dashing over to her husband.

She had left her bag on his desk, but Saitou hardly cared. This was a good day for her, for all of them. Ta-chan let out a satisfied whine, and laid at his feet while he poured over his paperwork some more.

Several minutes later, Harada appeared before him, and though Saitou was doing his best to ignore him, the spikey haired man was not making it easy.

"Oh God, just- are you watching this, man?"

Harada cringed as he watched Okita rub noses with his wife, then continue to coo over the contents of a blue folder.

"Shit, this is disgusting. Someone tell them to get a room."

"Let them be."

Harada turned to Saitou who had not looked up from his work, but his tone held a threatening edge to it.

"Sorry dude, but this is not something I want to see in the office."

Saitou shrugged. "Then leave."

"Why so defensive, Saitou?" Harada demanded, pushing Shousha's bag aside and perching himself on the desk in its place, "I never thought you were the one for sentiment."

Placing his pen down, the angular inspector looked up at his comrade with steely eyes. "Okita and his wife have been through more horrible things than either you or I could imagine. If they feel the need to display their affection publicly, then so be it. If you are offended, you know where the exit is."

Harada furrowed his brow. "I don't get it, man. You're always raggin' on them. Why can't I?"

Saitou was silent for a moment, not wanting to dignify that with a response, but it held more truth than he wanted to admit. Finally, he nodded his head over to the couple.

"They're getting their child."

"Oh!" Harada perked up immediately, "cool! They've been trying for a while, right?"

He didn't say anything further, but Harada wasn't quite finished.

"But I mean, why adopt? It's not like Shou'd ruin her body or anything like that. I bet she'd snap right back."

Inwardly, Saitou seethed. He didn't like Shousha, not really, but knowing the truth about her, the whole truth, he felt Harada's comment to be shallow and offensive even to him. Shousha didn't give a damn about her physical appearance.

Even though there was a rage building up within him, Saitou kept calm. It wasn't his place to lash out in defense of his friends. If Okita hadn't spoken up about their situation, he would be vague.

"They can not have children," he replied simply.

To this, Harada let out a guffaw. "No way!" He leaned forward, lowering his voice, "you don't mean to tell me Okita's firing blanks!"

Within an instant, Saitou gripped the front of Harada's shirt, and shoved him off the desk. Shousha's bag tumbled forth as Harada attempted to use it as an anchor and sketchbooks, makeup, and various writing utensils scattered about the floor. Ta-chan let out a surprised 'woof', and the couple in question halted their affections to stare at the scene across from them.

"Is everything alright, Harada-san?"

Harada stood, scowling at Saitou, but laughed and waved at his small friend. "Yeah, just lost my balance!"

Shousha flashed him a cheerful smile and after returning her things to her bag, he walked back to his desk, still unclear on the matter, and rather sore. Everyone had their secrets, he supposed.

Calming himself, Saitou sat back down, giving Ta-chan a soothing pat.

"It seems that you and I will be spending a long weekend together," he mused.

Ta-chan thumped his tail happily.

xxxx

**Author's Notes: **Yup, Fumiko will be in here too! I like playing with her. :) I've realized that she's sort of a replacement for Yaso who I just... I just can't write her in as Saitou's love interest, and it is for the _dumbest_ reason.

I can't get past her name.

I just can't. I don't like it. It doesn't ever bring me any good productive scenes, so I cut her. Sorry, history. She will show up in one fic, but not as his lover.

Also, we won't actually _see_ Katsura in this fic (booooo), but we will learn more about him later on.


End file.
